Wristbands and Dragons
by daughteroctober
Summary: The one where suddenly Merlin is a hipster and Arthur doesn't like it and Gwaine  Gawain  is the straight best friend. Silly bands, duct tape, fedoras and crack ensue. Arthur/Merlin in part 2. Modern AU


"What in hell's name is that on your head?" said Arthur, when Merlin finally appeared at the café for tea.

"A fedora," said Merlin, sitting down next to Gawain, shrugging off his shoulder bag and dumping it on the café floor.

A black fedora was decidedly alighted on Merlin', head, looking out of place on a man who regularly wore beanies and loose jeans and more importantly, no sense of style. Then again, everything looked a bit out of place on him today. He was wearing black skinny jeans for one thing, and a graphic t-shirt that had nothing to with bands or music, and everything to do with a sun and beat box, two randomly picked images smushed together that Arthur could not reconcile in his head at the moment.

"You look ridiculous," he said. Arthur's first reactions were always like this: over the top, slightly more masculine and complete with a I'm-a-jerk-but-I-don't-care attitude.

"Ridiculously good," Merlin quipped pulling at the brim of the fedora with a little cheeky grin.

"Sure," said Gawain under his breath, guffawing as he sipped at his coffee, and made a face as it burned his tongue, too hot.

Arthur continued to stare at Merlin, who nonplussed, stared down obliviously at the café menu. Through a pair of glasses perched on his nose. Thick rimmed, black glasses.

"What's with the glasses, Merlin," Gawain asked, after it became apparent that Merlin wasn't going to say anything.

"I need them to read," he said, flipping the menu over to stare at the list of baked goods and teas, squinting a little, as if he didn't already know the café's menu by heart.

"But those aren't reading glasses," Arthur said, crossing his arms across his chest.

"_Yes. They. Are." _

Clearly, Merlin wasn't to be bothered today with arguments from Arthur.

So Arthur, feeling bored, feeling restless, just wanting to wipe off that stupid smirk off Merlin's face, changed tactics.

Merlin just happened to be wearing silly bands. A ton of silly bands in fact, Marvel Action heroes, red and blue and neon yellow, (no zoo animals or Disney princesses thank you very much) to give out to the boy's club he volunteered at as prizes for the answers to the weekly trivia questions. But still, a bunch of silly bands on Merlin's thin wiry wrist just added hopelessly to the hipster look he was sporting.

Arthur reached across the table and snapped one of the red superman silly bands, like a little kid.

Merlin didn't do more than flinch, though it must have hurt. Merlin gave him a dark look, which was enough for Arthur to do it again, mostly to get the predictable eye roll from Gwaine, who had been stirring his coffee for last five minutes with one of those tiny thin coffee straws.

"If you wear silly bands tomorrow at the concert, all the girls will love you," said Gwaine, not looking at anyone, but stared at his coffee like something intelligent might be swimming in it, and might pop out of the froth any moment.

Arthur scoffed.

"All the preschool girls."

Merlin pulls at the fedora again, looking sullen.

"Going into one of your black moods, Merlin?" Said Gawain, chewing idly on a coffee straw, bemused at the two at of them.

"Of course," Arthur answers for him." He crosses his arms and leans back trying to eye the blonde ponytailed barista pretending to read Kafka's Metamorphosis in the corner. She had been reading that book since last winter. Arthur knew she just used it as a ruse to listen in on their, and most likely and more promising, his conversations.

Merlin suddenly squawked like a chicken. Gawain had stolen his fedora, and had manhandled his arm, pinning it to the table so he could snap the wristbands in quick succession.

"Ow! Gawain. Stop. Gaw—stopstop Stop!"

Merlin wrestled with him for a moment before getting back his arm.

He shuffles and wriggles into a semi-standing position, his chair scrapping the floor too far too loudly. The blonde barista shushes him.

"This isn't a library," he grumbled.

"Sorry," whispered Gawain.

Then Merlin sighed and grabbed his thick-strapped shoulder bag on the floor that everyone hated because of the massive overuse of duct tape on holding the ancient bag together, but Merlin couldn't do without. He got up to leave and tugged at the fedora again, this time pulling it too far down his forehead, making it only look worse, mashing his hair.

"It's not a ten gallon hat, James Dean," Arthur said, and then "where are you going?"

Merlin just stared at him, blinking. He didn't say anything at first, but Arthur instantly knew he shouldn't have said anything related to James Dean.

"I'm going," Merlin said, "can't get anything done with you too. Have fun."

Gawain scoffed and punched Arthur's arm half-heartedly. "Hey, be nice," she said, in that fatherly tone he did so well. He was the oldest after all.

"It doesn't look too bad on him, actually," he continued, staring after Merlin now walking out the door.

Arthur gave him a look.

"Really Gawain?"

Gawain shrugged.

"He's just trying things out. He's had that skater boy-punk thing going for the longest time, but now he's grown up, getting a style that makes him, well _him_. Leave him be, Arthur, for once in your life. And don't thumb your nose at him."

"But I have to be seen with him!" Arthur said,  
knowing that wasn't the best thing to say and was sounded incredibly selfish, but he couldn't help but think tomorrow night, when he had booked for the arena, and was planning to _manage_, while Derek was on holiday. And how Merlin would be eyeballed by the concertgoers like some creature from the black lagoon for wearing his hipster stuff in sea of punk rockers, vans, and bright neon colours worn like war-paint.

"He looks like some hip academic bloke, with that hat…"

"Whatever," said Gawain, seeing this line of conversation going nowhere, pushed back his chair and stood up, "I'll see you tomorrow, got to get the lights set."

Arthur found himself in the café alone in the next few minutes, feeling sullen, his cup of coffee gone cold. The barista smirked at him from her corner, her copy of Kafka close to upside down at this point, (which was both adorable and bit worrying all the same time) but he really just didn't feel like talking it up with her.

So he got out his wallet, placed the current amount (plus tip, yes, he always tips), and walked out of the café feeling stupid and hoping he could find Merlin.

He headed towards the park to check there first. Maybe Merlin liked feeding ducks now. Or reading poetry on park benches.

He shuddered at the thought, and went looking for him, at least to apologize so he had his best man, hopefully dressed normally, at the concert tomorrow.


End file.
